I narrow my eyes. “How do you know that?”
Again, Hel translates, and Gavril shrugs. “He’s been here for nearly two weeks. You’ve been here a few days. Things are overheard. Gossip spreads. The girl with no voice bested the Prince of the East, and now she’s in Malgros with the Witch Collector, wanting to hunt down Vexx before sailing to the Summerlands and journeying to the City of Ruin.”
My stomach sinks, and I can feel the blood drain from my face as Hel sighs a quiet Fuck. If this is common knowledge, we’re in more danger than we realized.
Worried, I open my end of the bond and reach for Alexus, to warn him. At first there’s nothing, though his end of the rune is as clear as the sun. I close my eyes and call for him.
Find me. Leave. Find me. Not safe.
When I open my eyes, my rune warms to a burn, so hot I gasp and slip my hand under the part of my dress that covers the mark.
Where are you? That’s the question that races along the bond from Alexus. Where are you? Where are you? Where are you? Please talk to me.
I double over from the power of his plea. All I can manage to communicate is Finn. Tavern. Finn.
“Raina.” Hel rushes to my side. “Are you all right?”
I shake my head. Alexus is panicking.
“Perhaps you should get her some water or ale,” Gavril says. “A cool cloth.” Finn agrees, and before I can argue, Hel hurries downstairs to the tavern.
The moment the door closes, my entire world changes.
Gavril flashes a blade through the air so fast I barely have time to look up and flinch. Blood sprays my face, and when I turn, stunned, Finn is gasping, his throat slit from side to side, blood spilling from the wound and then from his mouth.
With those big brown eyes, he stares at me in shock and horror, trying to say my name, and I clasp his throat, blood seeping between my fingers. Already I smell his death approaching—the aroma of a forge fire and leather, of the air just before a rainstorm.
My mind stutters as I search for the glimmering threads of his life and think the Elikesh words to save him. Loria, Loria, anim alsh tu bretha, vanya tu limm volz…
But a hot, sharp pain stabs into my ribs.
I gasp and jerk, and Finn slips from my hold—there’s so much blood. He collapses on the floor as I look up and meet Gavril’s eyes. The man hovers over me, caging me in my chair, his dagger buried in my side. I can hear Finn struggling, coughing, choking, suffocating on his own blood.
And it makes me cold with fury.
Fulmanesh, iyuma.
A ball of fire shoots from the hearth and flies toward Gavril. Something stops it mid-air, the fiery orb spinning in place until it disintegrates into sparks dancing on the floor.
Gavril smiles and grips my throat.
He’s a witch. Or sorcerer. A man with magick.
I try again and again, launching fire balls at my newest enemy as he pushes my head against the back of my chair. He catches the raging orbs with his mind and quickly extinguishes the flames.
But one—one—blessedly strikes his face, drawing a scream from his chest, a howl of a sound that rattles the room as the fire blisters his cheek and singes his hair.
Shaking with pain, his grip loosens, but he never lets go of me, his weight pinning me. The fire in his hair and on his skin fades quickly though, and he stares down, eyes wild and head half-scorched. “Stupid, foolish woman. You will pay.”
Desperate, I call for my magickal blade. Lunthada, comida, bladen tu dresniah, krovek volz gentrilah!
The amethyst light sputters into existence but instantly vanishes, as though sucked away.
Gavril’s eyes sparkle and glow, that same shade of amethyst, as though he absorbed my magick. He tilts his head back, lips parted, relishing it. I can see the pleasure on his face—like that small bit of magick is renewing him.
In those few moments of distraction, I imagine Finn laughing and smiling. Quickly, I work at weaving his life threads as I gather the side of my dress in my hand and slip my blood-slicked hand over my thigh, feeling for leather and steel.
“I was supposed to let you live,” Gavril says. “Get you to Vexx and the prince. But you had to go and summon Un Drallag, didn’t you? I could feel it. Feel him. He should know that this war is no place for such a delicate thing as you.” He leans close, reeking of burned flesh and hair. “When I first saw you, I hated to be the one to snuff out your light. But now I don’t care. Some lights burn too brightly, so tonight is your last night to shine, pretty one.”
